Introducing Eddy Turns - our blog by Jan O'Neill

On one of our first dates, almost 25 years ago, my husband took me whitewater canoeing. Only later did we discover that the river he selected is one of the most challenging in northern Wisconsin; in fact, every year at least one person drowns on this river.

We were untrained, unskilled and not exactly well-prepared. We had the wrong kind of canoe (fiberglass) for what we were about to do and none of the required equipment (air bag, knee straps, helmets), and we failed to put on our life preservers.

Now Hank isn’t an impetuous guy. He’s an Eagle Scout (once an Eagle Scout always an Eagle Scout), and is ordinarily careful, analytical and trustworthy. But he’d taken other girlfriends on this river (we’ll save that for another post) and they had successfully navigated its rapids. Hank gave me the job of pointing out rocks as we approached them; in response, he would steer us around them.

“If we start to tip over,” he advised, “just remember to tip downstream, not up, since otherwise the canoe will fill with water.” His advice was counter-intuitive of course - when your canoe is crosswise to the current and you’re feeling yourself being pushed over downstream, the reactive response is to try to catch your balance by leaning upstream toward the water.

Navigating the first set of easy, grade 1 rapids was fun. We glided smoothly over the rocks, water rippling softly all around us. A half mile later, I heard a roar. Looking ahead, I saw the flat line of a river horizon where the river dropped into grade 2-3 rapids. My heart was pounding; all I could think was, “Get through without tipping, just get through!”

As we neared the source of the roar our canoe began moving faster. I paddled as fast as I could, yelling, “rock!” with increasing frequency. Suddenly, a particularly large rock loomed. Screaming “ro-o-o-ock,” I paddled even faster, trying to get past it—and we crashed right into it. The canoe swung sideways to the current. I leaned intuitively – upstream - and the canoe filled with water. The canoe seemed to dissolve around us, wrapping around the rock like aluminum foil around a potato. We stood in the middle of the rapids up to our armpits in roaring water, paddles held high above our heads, and surveyed the scene.

The following year we returned to the river with the right kind of canoe and the right equipment. We attended paddling school where we learned that the point is not to simply get through the rapids but to slow down and enjoy them. We learned how to backpaddle, sideslip, and look for eddies - quiet places behind rocks – where we could plan our next maneuver. In short, we learned how to approach whitewater canoeing as play, not work and to move downstream as a team, planning and skillfully communicating our moves and countermoves.

I’ve rediscovered these metaphors during the last six months as I’ve helped my aging, childless aunt move from her home of 30 years to an assisted living facility. In this eldercare role, I’ve thought about how we (I) approach change:

• How often do we continue using the same skills and tools we’ve always used, even when they’re not working, because we “can’t make time” to pause and reflect?
• How is it that in the urgency of now we sometimes press ahead and do things ourselves rather than slowing down and planning with our team?
• How often do we focus on the outcome—finishing a task, producing a product, improving results—and forget that the point of living is to live?

Writing this blog is my eddy turn. I look forward to playing in the rapids and spending time “behind the rocks” and hope you will pause to join me.